I find myself hitting water at the bottom of the drop in the darkness. Water floods my mouth, my nose, my ears. It strangles me, chokes me, pulls me under. Breathing becomes difficult. A haze overtakes my mind. A darkness not only obscures my eyes, but my senses as a whole. I can’t see, can’t breathe… I reach out in the water and find a hand. Arrol.

“Firae!?” He calls out my name as I try to stay afloat, and struggle. Suddenly, light encompasses the cavern. A single sphere of illumination casts shadows over the water. It’s almost blinding. Arrol and I find our hands and arms reaching out towards one another as we kick to stay afloat in the water.

“So, the time has come, then.” An old elven man looks down at us. He isn’t a Dark Elf, typical of the Under, but, rather, a Pale Elf, with the eyes which we had noticed earlier. A bright purple hue, the eyes of Merminae. “Get out of the water, fools.” He says in a booming, low voice to Arrol and I as we still struggle just to stay above the surface. I feel a hand grab my collar and pull me from the water, my leather armor certainly not helping my buoyancy. “Damned… Blight.”

As I orient myself on the hard stone edge surrounding the pond, I thank the gods that Arrol and I managed to land in the water rather than on the rocks, despite the fact that the water itself was still hard enough to knock me unconscious for a moment. The cavern is large, but the pond takes the role as the centerpiece of it, with a few small boats sitting atop it. I say pond, though it resembles more of a lake. I can see the other side of it, but certainly couldn’t swim across it myself. As I look up to the hole which we fell through, I see a set of ladders constructed around the edges, allowing for individuals to climb up it. That must explain how we saw a set of eyes upon opening the Entry. Though, those eyes…

“You have brought ruin upon us and yourselves. Your meddling, your foolishness has doomed us, you vile—” The old man begins. Arrol slugs him in the face, however, knocking him back with a rage in his eyes. The old man stumbles backwards and falls on his ass on the hard stone. Two elvish women run out from the darkness, bearing the same purple irises that he had. They’re stunning, catching the light perfectly.

“We’re not here to be called fools, or vile, asshole.” Arrol says. “We’ve done more than you have in preventing your own discovery. I’m not going to allow you to treat us like garbage because your isolated little colony finally came face to face with reality. Show us…” He motions to himself and I, “to your leader. It’s not in our interest to deal with people who don’t understand the depth of this situation.” The old man grimaces, then, his face becomes red with a similar anger.

“You think we don’t understand the desires of your Auro-Vil? The despot who wishes to make a wife out of a lady of House Merminis, you think we don’t know?” Auro-Vil? What, is he calling on old titles? “We know. We scout. We follow. We see your people on the surface, living lives of gluttony and avarice, enslaving others and waging petty wars while your faux Emperor declares himself a saint in the making and seeks Ascendancy through his prophecies. We know you people. You are vile, you are fools. You’ve only fulfilled the penultimate step in allowing that man to achieve his goals. You’ve unsealed our people, and have doomed us. I gave you a chance by pulling you from the water, why should I not push you back in?” At this, Arrol reaches for his blade, but finds that his sheath is no longer at his waist. “Warlike bastard-scion of the Causomis descendancy. How typical.” Causomis? As in, the royal house which rules the Glass Forest?

“We have no time for games, old man. No time to talk about history. Think what you will of us, but we’re getting through to your leader, whether you like it or not.” Despite not having a sword, he talks as though he could fight all three of these people off.

“There is truly no need for this fighting…” One of the women says.

“I am afraid there is, Aelwin.” The old man says to her. Upon further examination, it seems as though Aelwin is one in a set of twins, the other woman looking almost identical to her, though with shorter, neater hair.

“Dulwain, stand aside.” The voice is booming, and that of a regal woman. As this is said, the old man drops immediately to a singular knee, as do the twins. “Outsiders. We were told this day would come. Prophesied. I had not expected it would be within my own lifetime, as we had gone undisturbed for so long before this day. A shame. I shall bear the crown nonetheless.” A tall Pale Elf, with the same purple eyes as the other three, steps forward. She wears a long silk dress that trails on the hard stone as she steps forward, and stands a head above everyone else in the cavern at this moment. “I am Valicia. Heiress to the House Merminis, descendant of Merminae, who was Second Daughter of Finryr and Mimirya. Identify yourselves.”

Instinctively, I drop to a knee, and see Arrol do so as well. This woman commands authority in her voice and in her stature. “I am—”

“I am Arrol, son of Mala, my mother, in service to the Ring. The Emperor Daurellian is no friend of mine. ” Damn it, Arrol. Don’t cut me off again.

“I am Firae, daughter of Tyvas and Firael, my father and mother, in service to the Ring. Daurellian is not a friend of mine, either.”

“You may stand, do not debase yourself for a noble who you do not serve.” Valicia says, though she seems almost proud of the fact that we had dropped to a knee. I stand up, and see Arrol slowly do the same. I look at her face now. Sharp features, with eyes like razors. She has a birthmark situated below her right eye, and a scar across her upper lip, as though she were sliced with a razor. “Formality has little place for urgent situations, though it is still a stabilizing factor.” I look over at Arrol, to gauge his reaction to the Heiress seemingly dropping pretenses. Instead, I see him watching Aelwin. Aelwin, her twin sister, and Dulwain all still sit on their knees, heads bowed for Valicia.

“I don’t suppose there’s a place for us to discuss this that’s a bit more civilized?” Arrol asks, bluntly.

“Absolutely. Come, and bask in the marvel that is Glasniv. The Under has given us great gifts, and I am glad that outsiders will be able to see the wonders which we have created before disaster comes upon us.” As Valicia sees this, I see Dulwain physically wince. He almost opens his mouth to say something, likely along the lines of us not being trustworthy, but shuts it. He knows better than to undercut his leader. The three stand to their feet and begin to flank us, the twins standing next to Arrol and Dulwain next to myself, as we begin to walk through a small opening in the wall of the cave.

As we step through the threshold, however, the Under opens up to us, and we look out over hills and fields. There is no sun, no firmament, but luminescent moss and stalactites hang from the ceiling, while stalagmites the size of trees jut from the ground. The top of the cavern is lined with formations that draw ridges across it, as though it were a prison cell encasing the cavern, but the true centerpiece must be what Valicia called Glasniv—A massive fortress and city, seemingly hewn out of marble, sitting tall in the middle of the cavern.

“You said your name was Arrol?” Aelwin says, walking side by side with him. “I am Aelwin. My sister and I are retainers to the Heiress, Valicia. Dulwain, as well. We apologize for his behavior, though it was quite uncouth of you to assault him as you did.” They slowly shake their heads in unison, and Aelwin wraps her arm around Arrol, as though she’s guiding him. He fidgets with slight discomfort, but accepts it after a moment.

“So, this is what Merminae’s prophecy led to?” I ask. Suddenly, Valicia turns to face me, and we stop moving.

“You know of the prophecy? If you know, then, certainly…” For the first time since meeting her, Valicia shows signs of uncertainty on her face. “Let us make haste. You will need to tell us everything, and we will work with you to the best of our abilities.” A feeling of unease takes over the convoy, and our pace increases.